


Not Yet

by Coffee_Lotus



Series: Geraskier One Shots [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29559102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffee_Lotus/pseuds/Coffee_Lotus
Summary: Geralt is given a contract for a werewolf and Jaskier comes with him, despite the witcher telling him to stay at the inn.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171613
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Not Yet

_One... two... three... four..._

Counting didn't seem to be working. His heart continued to thud hard and rapid against his chest, and the scream wanting to leave his lips remained on the tip of his tongue. He had forgotten who had told him counting from one to ten was a good calming technique... but they deserved a good punch to the face for the horseshit in their advice.

Perhaps counting from ten _to_ one would work... nah. Patience was not on his side. Not with the three five inch deep claw wounds on his side bleeding heavily. One hand on the wound and one over his mouth was not _remotely_ helpful in slowing the spill of his blood. Then again... with this, he would probably remain alive until he was found.

Would he be found? It was a good question. The odds didn't seem to be in his favor this time. He felt like he had been waiting several hours for someone to come, a very specific someone, might he add.

The name was on the tip of his tongue, and he wanted to scream it so badly. A cry for help, and _surely_ he would be found. But then he might be found by the wrong person, or in this case _creature_.

Stupid cursed creature. Well... now that he thought about it, he'd be dead if the creature had found him. An excellent sense of smell the bastard had, and from what he could tell before... his blood must've smelled _delicious_.

Maybe crying out was a good idea now. It is a life or death situation after all. Why the hell not. If he yelled, a swift death would be in his hands, or his life would be saved.

_Eenie... meanie... minne..._

"GERALT!" A hoarse scream, but it would do. The witcher had excellent hearing, and was used to hearing his screams of help. Hopefully Geralt would hear, or more of he _better_ hear. If not, someone's arse would be kicked into the next life.

"J...er?" He closed his eyes, the thudding was reaching his head. "Ja...r!" Someone was calling his name, or was it his name? His head was spinning too much, all his focus had gone in calling out the witcher's name. "Do... ucking... are! No... et!"

Black spots replaced his blurred vision. They started to spread through the already dark atmosphere around him. He managed the smallest smile before the energy to keep it left. Soon enough, the darkness engulfed his vision, everything going black.  
  
  
  
  
  


Geralt didn't have the brightest clue as to how this werewolf became a huge problem. He didn't focus on the matter too much though, staying alive seemed a tad more important at the moment to him.

The witcher was thankful for the cursed oil he applied to his blade before the fight. In fact, he was thankful for most of the supplies he had bought before this hunt. Cursed oil... ingredients for a thunderbolt potion, moondust bomb... it was all very helpful. (He had to thank Jaskier later for the help with the coins)

 _Jaskier_. Geralt dropped his sword to his side after delivering the final blow. His eyes narrowed, searching the horizon for the bard. Last he had seen, Jaskier was running away after one of the werewolf's summoned wolves jumped at him- and thankfully Geralt had set the creature on fire.

Geralt sniffed the air, which turned to be pointless due to the smell of werewolf guts all over his body and the ground. Why did he think that would work? But there was another smell, another smell of blood...

"Jaskier." An unexpected panic rushed through his veins. The wolf must've managed to get his claws across the bard's skin... how could he not have noticed? "Fuck."

If only the bard had stayed back at the inn. Well, that thought was pointless to dwell on... Jaskier never listened to Geralt, even if his life is in danger. But this time, his life truly was in danger.

Geralt focused on the small droplets of blood that he could pinpoint as the bard's. The panic was beginning to rise as he followed the trail. Was Jaskier seriously injured? Are the injuries on his body serious? Is he- _-_

Then he heard his name. Hoarse, but clear as day to him. The witcher turned his attention to the area that the bard was currently inhabiting. Picking up his pace, Geralt broke into a sprint, frantically searching for his companion through the forest. He couldn't have gone far. With the droplets of blood he had to follow, then the failing and strangled voice... Dark thoughts loomed over his head on how Jaskier would be when he finally reached him--

"Jaskier!" Geralt dropped to his knee and placed a hand on the bard's cheek. His eyes widened at the large claw wound on his companion's side. "Shit!"

Jaskier's head started to drop, and his eyes began to flutter shut. His breathing grew shallow, his chest beginning to rise and fall.

 _Oh fuck._ "Don't you fucking dare!" Geralt held a hand on the wounds and his fingers that rested on the bard's face began to curl. He couldn't die! "Not yet!"

Tears began to fill Geralt's eyes, something he didn't think would be possible. He brought the bloodied hand to Jaskier's other cheek, his fingers curling on their own again.

The bard smiled at him. He fucking _smiled_ as the last breath left his lips, and his eyes closed. How could he smile? How could...?

"You weren't supposed to go yet..." Geralt whispered, bowing his head. "You were supposed to live your life... find someone to settle down with someone, write battle hymns and ballads, grow old..."

He was rambling now. Geralt of Rivia, someone of few words was rambling. "I am your friend, Jaskier. No matter how many times I said I wasn't... I am." Now he was crying. Tears streaming from his eyes, the occasional hiccup leaving his lips. "You weren't supposed to go yet..."

_You weren't supposed to go yet._


End file.
